


I'm Working Bitch

by antofalldreams (sotruebestie)



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Selfcest, Slow Burn, george omg ur such a baddie, georgenotfound selfcest, gogcest, heat waves but better, i should be getting paid to do this, night club setting, why am I doing this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:07:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28805559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sotruebestie/pseuds/antofalldreams
Summary: When George goes to a nightclub, he finds a man that looks precisely like himself. He doesn't question it, though. The nightclub is the perfect place to fall in love with yourself.
Relationships: GeorgeNotFound/GeorgeNotFound
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	I'm Working Bitch

**Author's Note:**

> why am i here

Lights flicker and shift from colour to colour as people sway by each other, jumping and grinding in time with an upbeat pop song playing over pulsing speakers. People’s faces flash under the cover of darkness, their short skirts and tight tops stretching and bunching as they rush. Time escapes everyone here, and no one can ever seem to keep it. But to George, it feels as though it’s been forever.

“Are you just gonna stand there or what?” Sapnap asks, grabbing George by the shoulders and pushing him towards the bar, “Come on!” 

Once they’ve had their drinks, they head out onto the dancefloor. George’s movements are clumsy and fluid as he laughs with Sapnap. It doesn’t take long before a girl approaches Sapnap and he turns to dance with her, his attention captured completely.

George watches, now dancing by himself awkwardly as his friend is whisked away into the crowd. He makes his way back to the wall he was previously leaning against and can't help but notice people having good times with everyone else. Something inside him softens at the sight of it all.

He spots a man leaning up against the wall just a little away from him, shrouded in shadows. Someone walks up to the man and suddenly George has lost all interest. He looks away from the stranger and out towards the crowd, eyes scanning and searching for his lost friend, hoping he finds him soon so that he can leave. 

“Hey,” Says a gravelly voice.

George jolts, raising his fists and turning to the man next to him. In the darkness, he can barely make out the white t-shirt layered over a black one, “Sapnap!”

Sapnap almost doubles over laughing and places a hand on the wall for support, “Don’t hit me.”

“That’s so not funny.”

“Why are you over here? Wanna go home already?” He replies, straightening up. 

“It’s tempting.” He looks towards the exit. 

“We can go home right away,” Sapnap thinks for a moment, “Or we can stay here for another hour, get more drinks, hang out on the dancefloor some more and if we find you someone to dance with then we can stay as long as you like.”

George squints, not even sure if Sapnap can see his face. 

“Okay, okay! Half an hour, that’s all.” 

“... Deal.” 

Sapnap claps his hands together, grinning, “Yes! Thank you, George. We’ll find you someone pretty and sexy, get you some of that good-”

“Sapnap.” 

“To the bar!” Sapnap hollers, leading the way. 

George follows him there, weaving between the people. He orders and starts drinking, knowing that there’s no way Sapnap would go home as early as he said.

Sapnap taps his shoulder and nods towards the bathroom. 

George nods back, “I’ll wait for you here,” he says as Sapnap makes his way towards the bathroom.

Alone once again, he thinks about all of the things he could have done tonight. Gaming with his friends online or rewatching Kung Fu Panda sounds more like his kind of thing.

Deep in thought about Kung Fu Panda, he doesn’t realize someone has sat on a barstool next to him. 

A voice rings out, “Hey.” 

Already once being ridiculed that night in this exact situation, he stays calm and turns to look, assessing the person in front of him. 

Up close, George sees that he’s wearing circular white goggles covering part of his face, with a reflection of his face in the middle of each lense. He realizes it’s the man he saw earlier and hopes silently that he’s not about to get stabbed. The man doesn’t have anything in his hands, thankfully. Short, brown hair sticks out from underneath the baby blue t-shirt he’s wearing and George guesses that this man is a hypebeast. The bartender places a drink in front of the man and smiles before making her way to another customer. 

“... Hello,” George says, hesitantly. 

The man hums and taps his fingers against the bench to the rhythm of the song playing, sipping his drink nonchalantly, “I can tell you don’t come here often.”

“What? How?” George prods, defensively. 

The man doesn’t say anything and George scoffs, looking at his surroundings and suddenly realizing how long Sapnap has been away for.

Finally, the stranger answers, “You’re so out of place. This isn’t your scene. You look like you belong in a gaming chair, calling someone kitten in a private discord call.” He adjusts his goggles, looking George up and down.

“Is this how you flirt? Is that it?” 

“Do you want it to be flirting?” The man leans in. 

George can smell some sort of fruity liquor on the stranger’s lips and takes a moment to look at them before turning away, “You’re so weird.”

“Oh, come on now,” The man laughs like he’s just told the world’s funniest joke. 

Silence grows between them as they drink and sit side by side. George plays with his sleeves, feeling like he should say something but having no idea what to say to the complete stranger who came up to him just to tell him how out of place he looks. He glances back at the man, then settles on looking at what’s on the taps.

Then, out of nowhere, the stranger holds out his hand and tries to say something over the music.

George doesn’t notice at first, then looks at the hand, not at all catching what the strange man said, “What?”

“My name’s George,” He says louder, swinging his legs. 

“I’m also George.” They shake hands, and George notices George’s wearing yeezys. He tilts his head, curious about why someone would wear such things in a sweltering nightclub. 

George doesn’t give him the chance to say anything else and hums, gesturing behind George, “I think that’s your friend waiting for you, by the way.” 

George turns to where George is indicating and sees Sapnap sitting a few seats away. Sapnap suddenly becomes interested in scratches on the bar bench when he notices them looking his way. Then whistles and looks in the opposite direction, which just adds onto the whole thing and makes George chuckle. 

When George turns back, George is gone and his drink is finished. The stool next to him somehow feels more empty than before. Weird guy, he thinks, getting up and only slightly stumbling over to Sapnap.

Sapnap looks at him smugly, “Have fun over there?”

“Let’s go, it’s been long enough,” he doesn’t wait for Sapnap to answer before heading to the exit.

It’s raining when they get outside and wait for the uber to pick them up. George holds his hands over his head to try to keep his hair at least a little bit dry. He fails and water dribbles down his forehead. A car pulls up in front of them and Sapnap gets in first, George following suit. The driver drives them to Sapnap’s house first and the young man gets out of the car but not before shooting George a worried look.

“Sorry if I overstepped.”

“You’re fine. I’m just tired, it’s way past my usual bedtime,” he offers his friend a taut smile and awkward thumbs up, “Goodnight, Sapnap.”

“Alright. Take care, Gogy,” he says, closing the door and backing away from the car.

George sinks into his seat and looks out the window, watching houses and street lights pass by. The darkness seems inviting and the rain has stopped. He thinks about going for a walk in the night, but decides against it when he feels exhaustion weighing down his bones. He thinks about George, and his laugh, and how he had such a strange way of speaking like he’s the main character of life itself. 

Leaning his forehead against the chilled window, George drifts to sleep. 


End file.
